The Million-Dollar Heart novel Chapter 790

Whitford's face twisted in agony as he crumbled to the floor of the cramped cell, his cries reverberating against the cold, grey walls.

Vivienne and Percival barely had time to register what had happened when the guards rushed in. They surveyed the bent iron bars with confusion etched on their faces. "Odd, the energy scan showed he wasn't this powerful. How'd he manage to warp reinforced steel like that?"

Vivienne's ears perked up. "Energy scan?"

You've got to be kidding me! How do you even measure such an intangible thing?

But the guards were dead serious. "The device was sent specifically from the top brass. Developed by some tech whiz, I don't get the science behind it, but the tech guy assured us Whitford wasn't a threat."

Yet Whitford had just bent the bars. That meant either the device was a fake, or the technician in charge was a mole from the ancient warrior lineage, planted to monitor any prisoners of their kind!

The couple realized this at the same moment.

Without hesitation, Vivienne pushed past the guards and strode into the cell. She fished out a pill from her pocket, pried Whitford's mouth open, and shoved it down his throat. Her movements were so smooth that Whitford had swallowed the pill before the guards could react.

One of them grabbed Vivienne's wrist. "What did you give him?!"

"Xiomara!"

"Vivienne!"

Percival stepped in, separating Vivienne from the guard named Xiomara. "We're from the NH Bureau, and during an investigation, we're authorized to use any means necessary on suspects. Let go of her!"

"Xiomara, Percival's right," another imposing guard tugged at his colleague's sleeve. "Ease up!"

Xiomara's eyes flickered with reluctant suspicion as they landed on Vivienne. It wasn't until the male guard showed his impatience that she finally let go, "But you can't just shove anything down a prisoner's throat, don't they have rights?"

"You talking about human rights with a member of an international crime syndicate?" Vivienne didn't know whether to laugh at her naivety or marvel at her simplicity. "Sweetheart, how old are you? Didn't your teacher tell you the scum in here have done things so vile that dying a hundred times over would be too kind?"

"I..." Xiomara, only twenty and seemingly older than Vivienne, flushed in embarrassment and anger at being lectured by someone younger.

Before she could argue, Vivienne cut her off again. "Whitford, what you've got churning in your gut is the same poison I fed your brother. I don't care what other plans your ancient warrior lineage has, but if you're not at the hearing the day after tomorrow, you and your brother will be joining your ancestors!"

"Who the hell are you?!" Whitford glared, his voice trembling as much as his body.

The pain in his abdomen was relentless, amplified by whatever Vivienne had slipped into the pill. It kept him in a state of excruciating clarity.

Vivienne looked down at him, her gaze cold and menacing. "I'm your worst nightmare."

The room fell silent.